Chapter 17: The Dryer on the End

"Two men in a gray Buick," Mara said. "Across from the laundromat on Archer, since Saturday."

She tapped the photo on her phone, and Luka took it from her.

"Those are my father's," he said. "Not the harbor crew's."

"Do they know what happened in the yard?" I asked.

"Nobody from the yard went back to tell them."

"My father wouldn't have. He'd rather they thought you were still a florist."

"Good."

Luka looked up from the phone.

"Tell me what you're about to say."

"The ledger is in the dryer on the end," I said. "Behind the lint panel. Pavel hid it there the week he lived upstairs."

"I want to walk in and take it."

"Then you walk past two men who work for your father, and they put a call through before you reach the door."

"And you?"

"I'm Luka's girlfriend," I said. "I come in with a basket of laundry."

He said nothing for a moment.

Then, slowly, "They'd let you in."

"They'd carry it up for me."

"New term," Luka said. "You tell me where you are."

"I'm telling you. The laundromat on Archer, about twenty minutes. I'll have the wire in my sleeve. You'll hear all of it."

"And if I don't like what I hear?"

"Then you'll sit in the van and not like it."

His jaw worked.

"Within reason," he said, through his teeth.

"Within reason," I agreed, and kissed his scar.

The motel had a basket of sheets that nobody wanted, and I took it.

I put on the cardigan and braided my hair the loose way.

I stopped in the mirror over the dresser.

The woman looking back at me was a florist, with soft eyes and a pink mouth.

I had worn her for twenty months. This time I put her on on purpose.

Archer Avenue at dusk was gray and cold. The Buick sat across from the laundromat with its engine off.

I crossed the street with the basket on my hip.

The man at the wheel rolled down the window before I got there.

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